The Way

by Thomas on January 5, 2009

It was one of those moments his followers would never forget. Jesus knew that his death loomed large on the horizon, that somewhere in Jerusalem an empty cross awaited his arrival. Rather than seeking pity, Jesus looked for an opportunity to inform and reassure his disciples regarding the events to come. His horrific suffering and violent death were about to become a reality. Eleven of the Twelve who listened to his ominous predictions that night couldn’t bare the thought of losing their beloved Friend. Jesus was acutely aware of their deep distress and reminded his companions that he was doing this for them. Everything that was about to happen would not be in vain. Death would be followed by resurrection. The world would be saved through him, just as God intended.

In their despair, the disciples looked for a way to make sense of the impending tragedy, to find a bright spot in the sadness that enveloped them. They did not want to suffer the permanent loss of their Leader, so once again they turned to him for help. If there were some way to be eternally connected to Jesus and the loving God he introduced them to, they wanted to know. They needed to know. Realizing this, Jesus responded, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6).

Jesus is the only way to God.

There are few words in our language that incite more vigorous debate. In fact, for millions of religious people this single sentence has become an intolerable irritant, a justifiable excuse to dismiss Jesus altogether. Even the irreligious find this seven-word declaration disturbing, setting it aside as unusually narrow-minded and extreme. But what makes this statement so hard for us to absorb and so easy for us to deny? Why have these words generated so much controversy, when so much of what Jesus said has been enthusiastically embraced? What if we’re distorting this powerful claim by reading it through a broken lens?

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About Me

by Thomas on January 4, 2009

About pages have an inherent awkwardness, especially on personal websites. For some reason, I find it incredibly difficult to eschew biographical embellishment and just keep it real. Mainly because my life is so ordinary, and I’m not that interesting. Or maybe I’m worried that you won’t like me if my About page isn’t appropriately adorned with a long list of impressive accomplishments. Just so you know, I did win a spelling bee in elementary school, a title I held for about an hour. Sadly, the ridiculously tiny trophy I was given as a symbol of my victory was later taken away from me and awarded to my competitor.

Apparently, at the conclusion of the competition, my opponent’s mom filed a formal complaint with the judges, alleging that the word her daughter misspelled in the finals was too difficult for our division and should be thrown out. The judges agreed and made me give the trophy back. They then proceeded to give it to the little girl whose mom had a big mouth. I’m still bitter about that experience, even though the school I attended at the time tried to make amends for the emotional trauma I endured by awarding me a trophy of their own, which was even smaller than the original trophy I received from the (stupid) people who sponsored the spelling bee. Not surprisingly, that was the last time I ever competed in a competition like that.

But even self-deprecation gets old after a while. We all need to talk about what we’ve done or what we’re doing. We’re human after all. At present, my life is best described through a series of words. Words like: Son, Brother, Husband, Father, Bibliophile (made possible by amazon.com), Yankee (by way of Massachusetts), Student, Dreamer, Teacher, Leader, Follower, Writer, Reader, Worshipper, Lover, Friend, Sinner, Christian, Pastor, Fan, Coffee Drinker (Starbucks preferrably).

Oh, and my middle name is Edgar. Yes, that’s right, Edgar. Don’t laugh. It could have happened to you.

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Inexhaustible

by Thomas on January 2, 2009

There’s not a single word or image with enough depth to capture the essence of Jesus. He is too large to contain. He can’t be adequately summarized through print or portrait. No author or artist is capable of communicating the grandeur of a life so large. This was John’s admission at the end of the fourth Gospel.

Perhaps Jesus’s most beloved follower, John concluded his first-hand account of Jesus’s life by saying, “Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written” (John 21:25). John was acknowledging his own journalistic limitations. But he was also lifting the veil so that we could see the inexhaustible Christ.

Since John penned those words, every writer and painter who has ever tackled the subject matter of Jesus has had to yield to the limits of their own imagination and artistic skill. Jesus can’t be confined to canvas or paper. Another universe would have to be created to store the books about his life. But in Jesus God walked among us, and we might have missed him without the writings of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. The Gospels are the living, breathing documents that allow us to experience the multi-faceted brilliance of Jesus Christ. They give us a snapshot of the history-making man from Nazareth and show us the human face of God.

What would this world be like if we had no record of Jesus’s life, his death, his resurrection? Could we live with ourselves and others without knowing the Teacher from Galilee? There’s something about his life that gives us courage and hope. Almost irresistibly, we are drawn to him. Even if we loathe our own skepticism and unbelief, we recognize something in Jesus that we know, almost intuitively, we need in ourselves: absolute trust in God.

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Extraordinary

by Thomas on January 1, 2009

The world has yet to produce a man or a woman on a par with Jesus. Although that may seem like an outrageous statement to make, it’s unavoidable. Throughout history, people of profound importance have come and gone, leaving their unique contributions behind. We recognize their impact on society. In some cases, we study their lives, trying to unlock the secrets to their success. Whether it’s Edison or Einstein, Mother Teresa or Billy Graham, it would be impossible to talk about history-making individuals without discussing their exceptional characteristics. It’s no different with Jesus.

Very few people would deny Jesus’s significance. Some try to avoid it, inwardly hoping he’s unimportant. Others deal with Jesus intellectually, throwing him into the same category as Buddha or Gandhi. Even after two thousand years, there are still those who believe that a convincing argument or persuasive debate will plunge Jesus into irrelevance. But Jesus seems to defy his detractors. In fact, during times of unusual opposition to Jesus, his followers have always grown stronger and more convinced of his absolute relevance to everything. It seems that their soul-deep connection to the Christ gives them the courage to withstand the most violent hostility. But how could this be?

The questions are unavoidable. And the answers inescapable. A thoughtful analysis of Jesus’s life leaves us wondering how he could invoke such passion in so many for so long without publishing a book, hosting a talk show, or building a single structure to house his operations. How do you sustain a revolution if you’re unwilling to promote yourself or your cause through the normal distribution channels? How do you get anything done if you don’t even have a place to sleep?

Jesus never does anything in an ordinary way.

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Christmas

by Thomas on December 25, 2008

Since his arrival the world has never been the same. Maybe it’s because he’s such a disturbing reminder that goodness and greatness rarely come wrapped in the package we might expect. Instead, he arrives mysteriously cloaked in the most common form — the form of a servant (Philippians 2:7). Even his earliest followers struggled to understand all that they had seen and heard from their unconventional Rabbi. They asked questions like, “What kind of man is this?” (Matthew 8:27) Eventually, those closest to the Teacher reported that his own mother regularly reflected on his words and actions, apparently trying to make sense of their significance (Luke 2:51). Jesus was different, unique, uncommon. Mary knew it. So did everyone else.

Ordinarily, a carpenter’s son was not prepared to effectively challenge the time-honored customs of his day, not to mention confront those who protected and practiced them. Jesus was a first-century anomaly; a radical departure from the status quo; a threat to those who threatened. Not much has changed. Centuries later, authors, artists, activists, even atheists are unable to shake the emotions his indestructible life inspires. You and I are no different. Our lives are lived in response to what we believe about Jesus. He has an unusual way of arousing our spiritual curiosity and demanding a response.

Think about it: How did a thirty-something from Nazareth start a revolution that would ultimately yank the entire ancient world into its vortex and turn the Roman Empire upside down? How did a man accustomed to working with wood acquire the skills necessary to transform the human heart? How did an ordinary Jew of questionable birth and humble origins become the focal point of history?

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Wellness Update

by Thomas on December 16, 2008

I’ve been working out since the thirtieth of October, almost seven weeks. During that time, I’ve dropped seventeen pounds, possibly more. I’m thinking it’s probably closer to twenty, but I didn’t weigh in during my first two weeks back in the gym. It doesn’t matter all that much. My main goal was to get healthy again, which is something I expressed in my first post on this blog. In less than fifty days I’ve experienced a noticeable increase in energy, a significant reduction in mid-day fatigue, and a renewed sense of emotional and spiritual optimism, which, I believe, is as much related to diet and exercise as it is to prayer and Bible reading. I must say that I have a new appreciation for the interconnectedness of body, mind, and spirit. Neglect one and the other two are significantly diminished. I may write more about this in the future. I do think that we need a more integrated, holistic faith that helps us “exercise” the whole person. But I digress.

With the Philadelphia Marathon less than one year away, there’s a very strong chance that I may be healthy enough to participate. If you had told me that one year ago, I would have probably thanked you for your optimism but ultimately dismissed you for your naiveté. At that point, pessimism — which is possibility’s sinister foe — had yanked me into a vortex of visionless thinking. I was just existing. I couldn’t entertain the thought that I might feel well enough to run. Now all I can do is imagine the possibilities.

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Wordle Snapshot

by Thomas on December 9, 2008

Generated by Wordle on December 8, 2008.

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A Third Way

by Thomas on December 8, 2008

A few years ago I heard a well-known pastor from New York City say: “There are only two kinds of people in the world: Those who watch FOX News and those who don’t.” At the time, it seemed like a careless thing to say, definitely not a way to warm up to your audience, so I dismissed his statement for what I thought it was: nonsense. However, as it turns out, he was on to something.

Little did I know that the polarizing pastor from the big city wasn’t attempting to break the ice with his listeners. And he wasn’t just another solid Bible teacher with poor comedic timing. He was speaking out of his pastoral experience. He was pointing us to something true, a cultural reality. Who would have thought that an entire nation — a “Christian” nation — could be subjugated, depending on political affiliation, to a particular cable news channel? Looking back, the minister from Manhattan thought so.

Recently, I had an unimaginative conversation with a few well-meaning Christians who were attempting to undermine my political ambiguity. They were clearly intending to convert me to their side. I felt the pressure, loathed it in fact. But I endured their zeal, secretly wishing that they would apply this same passion to their other evangelistic endeavors. Sadly, in my experience, the red and blue kingdoms of America produce far more loyal subjects than the kingdom of God. That’s one of the reasons why I’m purple.

Being purple is not a political statement. It’s a pastoral one. It has more to do with the Sermon on the Mount than the State of the Union. Though it certainly influences my political perspective and shapes my vision for our world, being purple is not a way to strike a balance between liberal blue and conservative red, whether in politics or theology. It’s not an avoidance tactic either, a strategy for sidestepping political activism or theological debate.

I suppose that being purple is a contemporary adaptation of Paul’s passion to “become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some,” which doesn’t mean that I’m an ecclesiastical doormat looking for opportunities to shed my orthodoxy and tweak the ancient creeds and practices that have sustained Christian communities for centuries. It just means that the politics of Jesus seem far more hopeful and helpful than any of the alternatives.

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The Invisible God

by Thomas on December 5, 2008

I believe in a Trinitarian God I cannot see. My six year old daughter — who seems very interested in my beliefs when she’s not straightening the hair of one of her dolls — is very inquisitive and has a knack for asking me the tough questions about my faith. She’s an honest seeker, capable of challenging my deeply held theological convictions in the most innocent ways. Honestly, there’s been a time or two when I’ve woken up as a devout believer and gone to bed as a bewildered agnostic after a bedtime conversation with my six year old. How many times can an answer like, “I don’t know.” suffice?

My daughter’s big question centers around my claim to know and love a God I can’t see, and why, if God is God, he won’t show up and make an appearance. She’s been around the biblical story long enough to know that God has a history of self-disclosure. Hers is a world where seeing is believing. Mine is a world where seeing would be nice, but I’ve come to a place where I’m comfortable living between “sightings.” Clearly, she appreciates my perspective but has her own concerns about following a similar path. My assurance to her is that the majority of her doubts will be dispelled once she has a saving encounter with Jesus Christ. For her sake, I hope I’m right.

Of course, I do wonder which Jesus she’ll encounter along the way. Will it be the white, middle-class, suburban Jesus whose message is shamefully promoted as life-enhancing, a way to fine-tune an already comfortable existence? Or will it be the Jesus-as-mascot caricature that sullies the absolute agenda of the kingdom of God in favor of creating a cosmic cheerleader, a deliberately diluted and domesticated deity who blesses our passions and programs even while we’re neglecting his? I’ve met both of these Jesuses, and many more, and find them to be gross misrepresentations.

With frightening familiarity we speak of Jesus as if we know him and he knows us. And that is certainly the case for some. But others of us have just adopted Jesus, yanked him out of his first century Jewish context, and then adapted him to our current situation, making his gospel palatable and his directives optional. It’s almost as if we think Jesus was serious about what he said when he said it, but over time he’s mellowed a bit, making him far less demanding than he was two thousand years ago. Is that really Jesus or just a ruinous abridgement of “God with us,” a diminished version of the real thing?

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God With Us

by Thomas on December 4, 2008

I like to talk about the Incarnation at Christmas. I suspect that most pastors do. We’re suckers for the gospel, particularly the gospel that starts in the womb of an impoverished, unwed, teenage girl. Of all the different gospels being preached today, the one initiated in Mary seems to be the genuine article, impervious to improvisation and immediately distinguishable from the life-enhancing gospels that are currently in vogue.

The essential gospel — the one that grew in Mary — refuses to be reduced to an add-on, a way to improve an already overcrowded life. In my opinion, any gospel that talks more about getting me into heaven than about getting heaven into me is a reduction, a spiritualized sales pitch that misses the point of the Incarnation. The gospel of my youth was reduced. As a result, we feverishly presented the “get-of-hell-and-into-heaven” gospel to anyone who would listen. There were thousands of conversions, and we painstakingly counted each one. Strangely, of the thousands who became followers of the Way during those years, very few exhibited any long-term interest in Christ or his church. I often wondered what went wrong, not realizing that a diminished gospel produces diminished converts and a diminished church.

Don’t get me wrong. I have given my life to spreading the message that Jesus is right about and relevant to everything. I long to see the missing sons and daughters of God come home. But I’ve been trained to use the gospel rather than allowing the gospel to use me. That’s a hard habit to break, a frustrating and intrusive inclination that resurfaces every now and then. The way I see it now, there’s no reason to dilute the gospel for the sake of statistical growth. Salvation isn’t another cheap, mass-produced commodity that gets offered to our culture in hopes that they’ll buy. It’s a person. His name is Jesus. And Christmas is the gospel’s first act.

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